


Of All The Art History Classes In All The World

by another_crack_in_time_and_space



Series: Of All The Art Classes In All The World [1]
Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Artist AU, M/M, Nude Model AU, Self Harm, Uni AU, accidentially makes Keaton Henson a character, depressed Kieren cause I need more heart break, photographer!simon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-02-25 09:59:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2617691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/another_crack_in_time_and_space/pseuds/another_crack_in_time_and_space
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kieren Walker is a beautiful boy from a beautiful town with an ugly past of self-harm. Now in Uni as an art student he tries to ignore what all his classmates say about him. Easy, if he wasn't a model for most of the drawing classes on campus. Then comes Simon, a senior looking for a subject for his Final Senior Gallery piece. Kieren is his perfect model with a pre made demographic. (angst and loss and love ensue)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Expositions are a pain

**Author's Note:**

> This is totally not for my creative writing class and I'm totally not putting it here first so that I can see how many warm up to the idea...

The life of a nude model was almost always cold. Not figuratively or anything deep, just actually cold. Kieren was posed, rather uncomfortably, in a circle of easels. This was his job, to be on display, and he hated it. It was needed money though, so how could he complain? Well he guessed he could have full validity if he complained, if only about the comments. He’d hear them all, but be unable to respond. It started the first day he’d been asked after for a class. The woman had smiled encouragingly, as if in pity. He had stood, still clothed, on his raised platform as the woman instructed what the pupils were looking for. Kieren swore his heart was about to explode. He was so light headed he almost missed the teacher asking him to disrobe. 

He turned, shucking off his sweatshirt, slipping out of his pants. Already there were murmurs like a ripple and he was about to jump in. Shutting his eyes for a moment he turned to the class and listened to the gasps and surprised yelps. Those hurt so much, they hurt more than the raised scars all over his chest and arms. He couldn’t forget what had been said in whispers and exclamations. 

“Is this legal?”  
“The hell is wrong with him?”  
“This is sick!”  
“Of course we get the sodding cutter”

He told no one, regardless of his trembling lips. He only wanted to run, to get away from these people. But he needed the money and the exposure. His scars made it a huge problem to get hired so he should be thankful even this had come around. Focusing on not blacking out or going into a panic attack Kieren positioned himself and sat so still it was a wonder he wasn’t dead. It was the first of many to pity hire him. But what could he do? Complain and lose his only avenue of cash or shut up and suffer? Kieren, being reasonably bright favored his art classes over his basic rights. 

It was few and far between but at 200 a wack he was well off enough. As well off as an art student could be...A struggling starving art student…a struggling starving art student who had to pay for most of his medication out of pocket. Who knew money had to buy his happiness? He sometimes laughed at the irony, but it was mostly self-deprecating anyway. 

He worked hard in his classes, kept his head down and body covered. It was an easy if detached existence. All he needed was to get his graduate requirements and break open the world as a painter or maybe a graphic designer. Anything really involving drawing. He wouldn’t even mind being a kindergarten teacher if it came to that. And his art wasn’t bad. It was pretty good. He mostly focused in portraits and thick oil paints, but he sketched sometimes as well. After a job, sketching was all he could do to swallow the panic. Better than his original coping mechanism. Other students would say kind things about his art, in the typical soft spoken and bombastic way most of the uni artists had, and he’d be walking on air for about an hour. 

Slipping into his art history class that unassuming Tuesday afternoon, Kieren didn’t expect much. Art history, after all, was not something one usually looked forward to. Rain stormed so hard against the side of the school it was hard to hear his teacher introduce the guest speaker that day, but an angel coming down from heaven itself couldn’t have taken Kieren’s eyes off the man in the front. Moreover, take his eyes off his hideous jumper. What person would think that was an acceptable jumper for public consumption, with the blocky white snowflake pattern over the shoulders and chest? The jumper was like a thrift shop epitomized. It easily dwarfed the pale man, regardless of his broad shoulders. The speaker possessed a significant air of self-confidence that bordered on narcissism. He stood cockily in the center of the stage before them, head slightly turned up and to the side as if pondering how the audience was so below him. Kieren got ready to sink down in his seat and ignore the man. But then he began to talk.

“Hey, sorry to drag you away from the scintillating history of--what is it, the English Renaissance?” He laughed softly, which kicked up a flutter in Kieren’s gut, and some students laughed with him. However smooth his voice was, Kieren still thought he was pretentious.”Well as you might have guessed, I’m a photo student here and all seniors need a final gallery piece, so I thought I’d do a character study. I’ve been popping into classes all over campus and asking around. If any of you are interested to become a model then just see me after Mr. Henson’s delightful lecture. All you need is some free time for an interview.” he smiled wide, flashing perfectly aligned teeth not much paler than his skin. With a flip of chocolate hair he stepped off the raised platform in front of the raked seating and sat in the front row. 

A model. Perfect. Though this guy (who neglected to introduce himself) seemed a bit up there he might not be all that bad to work with. Especially if he pays. Kieren made a list of pros and cons in the dull textbook he had paid too much for as Mr. Henson enlightened them on all that had come from their beautiful country. When class was dismissed, students descended on the mystery artist. Kieren packed his stuff slowly and waited before he went to go see the guest up close. Picking his way down the steps, he swallowed hard and shoved his hands in his pockets. Strangers weren’t high up on Kieren’s list of manageable things. Praying he didn’t royally screw up, he stopped in front of the student. 

Up close the speaker was a bit more accessible. Or less if you happened to go in for dark eyes and half hearted stubble. All of his features were subtle, down to his soft cheekbones and slightly sunken eyes. His dark brown hair was what should be an awkward medium length and had been slicked back in a stereotypical 40’s business man style. It should have been way out of date and weird, but of course it worked. Kieren swallowed and focused on the disturbing sweater. 

“Hey, uh, hi. You wanted..models, for your thing?” Kieren stumbled out. He could totally check professional off his list of traits. 

The man looked up from his phone, and Kieren wanted to disappear. What made him think he was so qualified to model?

“Yeah, I am. My name is Simon.” He flashed his teeth again, speaking with much more confidence than should be afforded to one so close to Kieren’s age, and stood to extend his hand. Kieren took it hesitantly, though his own shook. “I’ve gotta get to a lecture on the east side of campus so here.” Simon reached into a wallet, dutifully ignoring Kieren’s relief at dropping his hand. A black embossed business card was given to him. Business cards? Really? “Email me today, if you can, on a time that’s good for your interview. Have a nice day.” he smiled offhandedly, like a second thought, and shouldered his bag before disappearing off to the lecture. Kieren stared down at the card. 

Simon Monroe  
Freelance Photographer  
Email: Monroe.A@gmail.com

Official at least. Kieren shoved it in his pocket and breathed a bit easier now that Simon was gone. If he could get this, it’d be the perfect exposure. He didn’t give any of it a second thought and headed out to his dorm.


	2. Faces Come Out of The Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What do I get?"

Later that week Kieren still hadn’t emailed him. Anytime he tried, it was strange and creepy; he deleted all of it after several failed attempts. Eventually, he told himself someone else got the job so there was no reason to email anyway. Besides, he wouldn’t have gotten the gig, not being who he was. Grimacing to himself over a cup of black coffee in a dwarfed cafe, Kieren refreshed his email one more time, just to remind himself there were no jobs that week and he probably wouldn’t be able to afford his anti-depressants this month. Great. Leaning his head back, Kieren shut his eyes and counted to ten, then twenty, then thirty. He opened his eyes and counted the ceiling tiles. Just after he had gotten to seventy five he was jolted out of his thoughts. 

“Hey, you asked about my photography project didn’t you?” an irritatingly confident voice asked. Kieren looked forward again and raised his eyes to Simon’s gleaming face. Of course. 

“Yeah. I did, uh, got caught up, never emailed-”

“Oh no, that’s fine” Simon cut in, and pointed at the chair. “Mind if I join you?” he had already sat down before Kieren could object. “Look, I had over 20 students audition but none of them really have your…your…”

“Devastating lack of appeal?” Kieren offered, a mutter under his breath. Simon’s mouth quirked up in the corner. Of course he has the half smile. 

“Your fire,” Simon boomed dramatically, waving his arms in the air as if to convey just how much flammability Kieren possesed. The boy in question snorted, staring down his coffee label. “Really. You’re different.”

“I’m not fiery. That’s an adjective applied to heroes in books. Look, I’m just the same as everyone else. If you want me to model, say it.” Kieren tacked a mental please on hastily and prayed that Simon wouldn’t call him out for being rude. He pressed his hands tight against the table. 

“Then I want you to model.”

“What do I get?”

The question seemed to strike Simon silent. He scrunched up his mouth and stared at Kieren. 

“It’s a school sanctioned gallery, I can’t employ you.” Simon said, disdainfully. Staring Simon down, Kieren shrugged though his hands were picking at his sleeves pulling shred of string out of the cuff. 

“That’s not gonna work for me. I need money. You need a model.” He thought it was a fair trade, if a little under the table, and hoped the spark in Simon’s eyes was humor and not anger. God, why did he open his mouth in the first place, he was just gonna say-

“Fine. But if it’s for drugs I won’t pay you.” The older man agreed, with a quick nod. “Glad we could make an agreement..?” the open ended question jolted Kieren. Simon didn’t know his name. Of course he didn’t, they’d only just met.

“Kieren. Walker. Kieren Walker.” He stuttered out, still sorta in shock. That worked? How did that even work? Simon smiled. 

“Well, now that you’re my model we might as well make a schedule of preliminary shooting just so I can get used to you and move on from there,” the photographer persisted, not keen on leaving Kieren be. 

“What’s it about, your uh...gallery?” Kieren asked, fidgeting with his coffee cup, digging one, two, three indents into the top with his nail. Simon chuckled.

“Oh, well I haven’t figured that out quite yet.” Kieren looked up in shock. 

“Wait, so you needed me as a model, but don’t know what you’re photographing? What, am I supposed to give you the idea?” he exclaimed, a bit incredulously. What was with this guy?

“Well, in short yes, but only inspiration. Not like doing the project for me. It needs to be natural.” the artist’s eyes lit up and Kieren almost backed out. He was getting paid,he reminded himself, regardless that he just let himself be sweet talked. Of course he had. Holding back something overtly witty for once, Kieren went through a string of basic questions before arranging how they would met. Two coffees later, they split with plans to meet tomorrow afternoon, after their third class to do some shots. If he hadn’t just had twice his recommended intake of caffeine, Kieren would have called himself nervous. 

That night, while dozing off amid his studying, Kieren’s thoughts trailed over the prospect of the gallery. He hoped that it would go well, and get at least three or four months out of it. Just enough to support the meds and school. That Simon was insistent, but at least he was dedicated. So his poor fashion choices aside the photographer had the potential to be a pretty decent person. Kieren snorted to himself. He shut his text book and crawled into bed, going through his text messages. Mum and dad were saying hello; Jem asked him where her laptop case had got to (sometimes he thought his sister pretended he was still at home); and Amy sent a picture of some rave she had gotten into. Nothing from Rick. As usual. He sighed and put his phone in to charge. If only Rick had stuck around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh thank you for all the Kudos. I can't believe you guys like this.....wowowow. okay anyway heres a chapter thank you so much love


	3. Pretty Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Nice retort, you on the debate team?"

Simon had potential, like everyone else.

But today he was not expressing that potential. 

Kieren had dragged himself across campus in another sudden rain to meet up in a cafe before going to take pictures. When he got there, Simon was no where to be found. Where was he? Anxiety climbed up Kieren’s throat but he stamped it down as best he could. He shoved his hands in his pockets and counted the number of chairs pushed against tables. Time passed so slow Kieren began to think he could almost feel it aging him. Twenty minutes later, Kieren stood shivering in the corner (“don’t go sittin’ down all wet son, ever heard of an umbrella”) and absently messed with his phone when he finally gave up. Pushing himself off the wall, he paused as the door swung open and Simon came in, dry as the bloody Sahara. Kieren almost wanted to laugh. 

“Hey, why are you all….” Simon trailed off when he saw the boys eyes. Huge and dark, but they weren’t quite as sweet as before. Then it hit him. “I am the worst person ever,” Simon concluded. With a smirk Kieren bowed his head passive aggressively. 

Kieren coughed before standing at his full, underwhelming height. “How do you just..forget about your first shots? Like, just...how?” He demanded rhetorically. “I mean, now I’m wrecked so really where’s your photo-op, since you can’t even get a premise together-”

“Hey.” Simon cut in briskly. “Don’t talk to me like that, I was just on my way and-”

“And got distracted? That’s what you’re gonna say?” 

“So what, you can’t even be bothered to email people.”

“Oh, what a nice retort, are you on the debate club?”

“Look, if you’re gonna be difficult then you might as well forget about this.”

“Oh? So then who’s gonna be your stupid fire?”

A bitter silence ensued before Kieren realized that the shop owner was glaring at them. Kieren grabbed Simon’s shoulder and pulled him outside, to where the rain drizzled slightly. Couldn’t do much to bother him now. The pair glowered at each other in the shadow of the overhang. Finally Simon sighed and rubbed his eyes.   
“We can still shoot today, it’s fine. I’m sorry I was late. It won’t happen again, so long as you don’t lose your temper.” The statement carried weight and Kieren allowed the reprimand, nodding. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean...whatever, I'm sorry.” he struggled not to go on rambling. Simon smiled and nodded, bringing a firm hand down on Kieren’s shoulder. A friendly gesture, but that didn’t stop Kieren from flinching away from him. Pretending it didn’t happen, he looked to Simon expectantly as he took a few surreptitious steps backwards.

“Alright, come with me. Lets go start taking some pictures of that pretty face,” Simon laughed and Kieren smiled but furrowed his brow. Pretty face? 

The boys walked around campus with Simon’s huge camera bag beating a nice rhythm on his legs as they went. Eventually, they reached the outside of the uni campus, and Simon lead them further on to downtown. Kieren didn’t know exactly what to do, so he just dogged Simon until they stopped outside of some shut down building. 

‘This isn’t sketchy, this isn’t weird,’ Kieren repeated to himself as Simon set up his camera. It looked a little demonic, his whole setup, but that’s because cameras generally set Kieren on edge. The empty street meant there would be no interference. Simon gestured to the brick wall in front of him which, Kieren took as direction. Modeling with clothes on shouldn’t really be that strange of an experience.

“Alright, I’m just gonna set some stuff up and take some shots so I can figure out what I want to do with you,” he continued, off handed, as per usual. Kieren nodded and leaned against the wall, miming his best pouty model face but, didn’t realize Simon was paying attention till he laughed. Kieren stopped and red flushed up in his cheeks. Simon looked at him bashfully.

“No, that was funny, don’t be embarrassed,” Simon reassured him. “Maybe we can make it satire.” 

“Oh never,” Kieren disagreed. “I’d rather get a foot in the modeling world before tearing it down, thank you.”

“Tear it down and build a new door, mate” Simon laughed to himself. Kieren stuck out his tongue and the camera snapped. 

“Oh real professional,” Kieren huffed.

“Want real professional? Model for me then,” Simon almost taunted. “Strike a pose, Mr. Sourpuss.” 

This went on all afternoon, catching several basic shots of half drowned Kieren, leaving both in a better mood than when they had come. They started to head back when it got dark, laughing and talking. They organized to do another shooting soon and parted ways, each one kind of spinning off on their own and waiting.

No word from Rick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so Im putting up two chapters because I love you and also because I wrote too much


	4. Bring your best shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey so there's (a very badly written) anxiety attack in this chapter and some description of self harm scars so if you're triggered I'm really sorry

And so they continued. It was rocky at the beginning, since Simon was still putting together his aim. They’d walk off to the downtown, take pictures in front of empty buildings. Kieren would drape his self over windows, eliciting laughter from his friend.They’d take long walks back to the dorrms laughing over nothing. 

But the honeymoon doesn’t last very long. 

They were getting ready to go out, another try at this character study stuff. Kieren only had a t-shirt on, and he frantically looked around his single suite dorm room for his missing sweatshirt. He was distracted with worry when there was a knock. Kieren--without thinking--shouted to come in. 

“Hey, we’re losing-oh” Simon stopped short, filling the doorway. Simon’s eyes grew wide and his breath hitched a bit as he stared at Kieren, unable to process what it was he was seeing.

Across Kierens arms were deep ragged scars that filled the expanse from his wrist to his elbow, little horizontal and vertical lines that were the sickly purple of bruised eyes. They were raised from his skin, standing out and casting bizarre half shadows in the light from the window. Beyond his arms, they snuck into his shirt where they also covered his entire torso, each a bit more horrific than the last. They were visible with the aid of Kierens low cut shirt on his collar bones where they traced through the hollow of his throat. A few more shallow cuts, only an over cast yellow were dug into the back of his neck. Kieren knew they also covered his legs, long slices through his skin. They made Kieren’s stomach turn to look at them, yet were also beautiful. There wasn’t a new cut on his body, not in almost a year. But Simon wouldn’t know that.

“What?” Kieren questioned obliviously, straightening out. There was a beat of silence before Kieren took in the shock carved into Simon’s face. His expression crumpled, giving way to anger first, then to guilt. “Oh right…” he half whispered. His heart seemed to slow in his chest, anticipating some kind of backlash. With a shuddering breath, Kieren steeled himself, the playfulness that always arose around Simon vanishing. He was day one Kieren. Defensive. Shut down. 

“I don’t think I was supposed to….to really see that...uh..” Simon for once was not at all confident. His face burnt a very funny shade of pink. “Why don’t you go, uh...get ready….or whatever.” Simon turned and hit his head against the door frame. With a wince he stumbled back into the hallway. 

Kieren took a shuddering breath and sat on the edge of his bed. So Simon hadn’t blown up just then but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t. Kieren changed into a longer sleeve shirt in place of his jumper and joined Simon outside. They walked a good ways before Kieren’s nerves felt like they were rubbed raw and exposed. 

“Okay, dear god, say something!”

“How’d you get those?”

They both spoke at the same time and gave the other the same look of confusion. The question sunk to the bottom of Kieren’s gut. 

“How’d I get...my scars?” Kieren stared at him in disbelief. Wasn’t it obvious? 

“Yeah? They’re so...everywhere. How’d you get those?” Simon charged on, totally blind to Kieren’s shock. How could he possibly respond to that.

“I...I used to self harm. They’re old now, I haven’t done it in almost a year.” It sounded like Kieren was trying to talk down a rabid dog, like he was pleading for it not to lunge.

Simon took a step back from him, brows furrowed and hands shoved in his pockets. “Why would you have done that to yourself? Don’t you realize you could have died or something? Don’t you know how selfish that is?” 

The question hit him like a punch. “I don’t know why! And don’t you dare call it selfish, it was the only thing I could do.” he spat bitterly, surprising himself before realizing what he said. He didn’t really know why he had started. He didn’t know why it had been so hard to stop. One wouldn’t think that pain dulls pain but it was sometimes the only thing he had to hold on to. “I don’t know. Maybe I hoped I’d die.” Kieren said, softer. “I mean, it made sense when I started, I guess I just couldn’t stop”

There was quiet as the boys regarded each other. Kieren crossed his arms like he could hide the scars that wouldn’t fade. Simon shuffled foot to foot, chewing his lip, his hair falling into one eye then the other. At last all he did was nod like he didn’t know what to say. That almost pissed him off more than what he did say. 

“Can I photograph those?” 

“Can you what?”

“Can I photograph those? Your cuts? For the study? It could be a message about acceptance.” Kieren regarded Simon who smiled earnest as the day he was born, hope and drive matched pace for pace in his expression. Kieren wanted to make him happy. Maybe then He wouldn't be so afraid of Simon leaving him. ‘Don’t be weak’ He told himself. ‘You’re not still controlled by this disease any more, are you?’

“Maybe...we could, yeah.”

Photos were disastrous. 

“No, look natural, you look like you’re in pain when you do that.”

“I am in pain, Simon, I’m leaning against a building bare chested!”

“Don’t whine, I just need to take a few more.”

“I shouldn’t have done this, you know they won’t accept me.”

“You’re talking too much, the picture is blurry.”

“Oh, piss off.”

What camaraderie had sprung up was crumbling. Kieren constantly doubted himself as the pictures started to come together. That scar was too grotesque; that looked too much like him; that looked like a stranger. Did he even trust Simon? They bickered regularly over this. Finally, Simon growled something unintelligible and threw his camera in his bag.

“You know what, Kieren. You need to want to do this,” Simon scolded after another round of frustration. “Relax, suck it up, and stick. You’ve been a mess since we started taking pictures of your scars. It’s obvious you’re uncomfortable. So tell me, let’s take these pictures or let’s not.” Simon sat down in the middle of the road next to his tripod like a child throwing a tantrum. 

Kieren’s breath came quicker and his hands shook hard. His vision spotted with black. No, no no no, not an attack, not right now. He crouched against the wall, the brick scratching his back. His head fell between his knees. What have I done? What have I done? He kept asking himself; he had messed it up--screwed it up so badly. What have I done? What have I done? What have I done--breathe . . . breathe . . . breathe . . .

He was hardly cognizant of Simon approaching him and shaking his shoulder. His friend’s voice sounded underwater, a faint shout. He was asking what...if he was okay? Nod Kieren, You’re fine. Kieren kind of lulled his head in Simon’s direction. His thoughts were too loud. Breathe. 

Simon was frantic, touching him, tugging him and his voice kept getting louder. 

As if breaking through water, everything was full volume and Kieren’s lungs fell into an easier rhythm. 

“Simon,” he gasped, “Please stop touching me.” Simon took a step back and watched helplessly. Kieren rubbed his arms and tried to steady his breathing; he slowly returned to normal. “Sorry, those happen to me...sometimes.” he apologized, fruitlessly as it was obvious Simon didn’t understand anything that just happened.

“I’m a moron, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t push you into this.” Simon extended his hand to pull Kieren up. Ignoring Simon’s hand, Kieren ambled to his feet. He couldn’t touch anyone right now. Simon gathered up the camera and lead them back to campus. Tension strained their silence as Kieren pulled his large hoodie over his head, trying to disappear completely. His nerves were still buzzing and his hands wouldn’t stop moving, but he could focus enough to walk. He had shown his weakness. Simon was going to tell him this was the end, that he needed a better model and Kieren wouldn’t be able to buy his meds and he’d be a depressed wreck and fail out of school and-

“So how does that sound?” Simon cut in, apparently talking to him. 

“Huh,” Kieren responded. He was the master of coherent responses these days. 

“My dorm? We can calm down a bit and talk this through. Unless you’ve got plans.” Simon squinted up at the darkening sky. Was he inviting him over? Really? 

“Yeah, sure” he heard himself say. Oh brilliant.

“Cool. Let’s head there now . . . unless you need to stop for anything?”

‘A stiff drink,’ Kieren thought bitterly.“No, nothing. Let’s go.”

They ended up in Simon’s hall in under twenty minutes, a less bitter silence between them. Simon opened the door to room 34, left unlocked. He tossed his bag to the side and gestured around the cramped space. 

“Home away from home. There’s water in the fridge. Sit, you’re making me nervous.”

“Oh, making you nervous?” Kieren retorted softly.

The room was no bigger than an apartment’s living room. There were two beds, one over laid with colorful clothes and the other made neatly. A desk separated the two beds, belonging to Simon without a doubt, dominated by polaroids and negatives. A mini fridge was shoved in the corner at the foot of Simons bed, several stickers all over the front, which faced the leather couch Kieren now slumped into. The walls were bare. Glaring actually, on Simons half. On his roommate's side hung bright pictures and flowers. 

Simon laid on his bed and sighed. Kieren studied his shoes and began to count the stripes in Simons bedspread. He got to twenty-seven before Simon started talking. 

“So what are you okay with? What’s okay here?”

“What-”

“You’re severely awkward and uncomfortable in these pictures. Do you want them photographed or not?”

“I told-”

“Yeah you told, me but that’s not what I see,” Simon said dismissively with a wave of his hand. “I think we should try a new approach. Instead of all or nothing, just wear short sleeves. We could get some nice pictures of you pulling off your sweatshirt like you’re exposing yourself. Whatever you’re comfortable with. I don’t want you doing what you did today, whatever that freak out was-”

“Stop.”

There was silence. Anger burned in Kieren’s shoulders and lungs. He felt like a failure. Useless. He couldn’t even model properly and the only thing he had to do was to be him. He was a disappointment. Wringing his hands together Kieren began to explain, as best he could to someone so on the outside. 

“Look, it’s going to be uncomfortable. These scars,” he nervously rubbed his knuckles and palms, trying to put together his thoughts without sounding terribly mental. “It’s just that they’re a very private part of my life. I am making myself vulnerable here, it’s a little nerve wracking. More than actually. That wasn’t a ‘freak-out’, it was an anxiety attack. They’re terrifying and debilitating, so please don't minimize them.” Kieren was practically begging Simon, hanging pathetically off the edge of the couch. Simon only looked on passively as he prattled on. “I want to be a part of this and do all I can, but you’re expecting a lot of someone who hasn’t shown anyone else these..er, these cuts.”

For a moment, Kieren thought he’d be thrown out. 

“That’s alright then. We can do that. Tomorrow we can photograph in your room. It’ll be fun,” Simon smiled, but made no move to get closer to Kieren. A chill sunk to the bottom of his heart. 

Kieren left Simon’s sometime later, feeling vaguely more at ease. They had talked, but not about much that was deep. Just stuff that calmed him down, an even flow of conversation. He walked across campus, eyes out for trouble. He got to his hall quickly, but the dark always made him uneasy. Unlocking his dorm and promptly re locking the door, Kieren fell into his desk chair and checked his mobile. 

Mum and dad were asking what he was thinking for the upcoming holidays (he wanted to go home); Jem asked him if he understood enthalpy equations (he didn’t); Amy asked if he wanted to join her at a party Saturday (he was “busy”); and nothing from Rick. Kieren grimaced, but couldn’t stop himself. 

I miss you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna have one or two more scenes before I get to the sort of climax. The draft for this is due next week and Im at nine pages, ehhh!! I hope I can wrap it up in time. I might try to add more scenes for the fanfiction tbh but I don't know how that will go. Thanks for all your support, lovely lovely readers!!!


	5. Empty Saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No word from Rick, never any word from Rick

And so the next day came, a blissfully empty Saturday. Kieren awoke groggily before remembering that they’d be using his room to photograph. Stretching, Kieren pulled himself to a sitting position. Attacks always left him drained. He stood and dragged a hand through his hair, looking around his room. 

In about two hours the whole place was cleaned and Simon was en route. His heart pounded and his hands shook and his mouth went dry while he tried to ignore just how nervous he truly felt. In his favorite Pink Floyd shirt most of his scars were still exposed. He avoided looking at them most days. 

Having left the door unlocked Simon waltzed in, his usual confident self, hair slicked back and eyes bright. Before Kieren could even say hi Simon set out a battle plan.

“Okay so there were some good full chest shots, but we’ll see to those later, and some good ones of before as well. Basically today everything is low key. I’m going to set up some lighting and then you and I are just going to have a conversation so I can get some action shots.”

He went along complacently, helping Simon string up lights and plug in chargers. Kieren perched on his bed and stared at Simon, who peered through the viewfinder like he was an astronomer and Kieren a galaxy in the sky. Kieren shifted uncomfortably.

“Ready when you are,” Simon declared. 

“Go,” Kieren replied and reached for his sketch book. He needed to draw. His hands ached. 

“The sketchbook is a good idea. Focus shots. This is gonna be great. I can feel it.” Simon prattled on, already taking pictures. 

“Yeah? Glad you’re optimistic,” Kieren sputtered sarcastically, looking up through his lashes. In the morning sun Simon looked beautifully symmetrical, one half in light and the other in shadow. A rough line served for his nose, the strange gaunt shadows of his eyes would be mere brushes against the paper. Before he knew it Kieren was sketching Simon much in the way Simon was photographing him. It felt like trust, to sit in silence and capture the other man. Maybe this wouldn’t be terrible. 

An hour passed before Kieren was done with his sketch. He sighed and shut the book, after putting a sheet of paper between pages to keep it from smudging. Simon broke out of his thoughts and realized he’d been more watching Kieren than photographing him. 

“Why don’t we take a walk, you always look better outside,” Simon volunteered quickly, hoping the movement would stimulate inspiration. 

“Oh, so I look dreadful inside, do I?” Kieren teased. The laughter that followed was a breath of fresh air. All danger had passed. They were safe now. 

“You know what I mean, you tosser. Come on. We can get lunch or something. Then after I can go develop these. We need to start picking pictures for the gallery, they need enough time to enlarge them and then I’ve gotta rent a date to use the gallery besides…” Simon trailed off and Kieren nodded. 

“Yeah, let’s go walking. There’s a nice pizza place near here.” The boys got up and packed everything, the lights and the camera and even the sketch book. Kieren reached for his sweatshirt but stopped, looking over at Simon. Maybe, just for today, he wouldn’t need it. 

Out in the sunshine conversation flowed and they went back and forth over past memories, terrible childhood bullies, just talking, but more important than before. This was somehow different. Simon talked about his mother’s sudden death just before he went off to college three years ago; how he felt guilty for still going to school in the wake of her tragedy. Kieren listened, taking Simon’s hand and squeezing it, really trying to ignore the warm sparks in his skin from the contact. Kieren talked about his family not knowing about his self harm, regardless of the glaring evidence. He discussed his isolation from most of his peers in his town and in uni. He didn’t talk about Rick. He couldn’t.

Simon had pulled the camera out and got some pictures of Kieren talking, of Kieren laughing, of Kieren’s hand over the lense when the camera got too close. They were like a terrible movie.

They arrived at the pizza place famished, and jovial. The camera still slung around Simon’s neck, and Kieren still holding his hand, the outing couldn’t be better. They ordered and sat, shooting paper straw wrappers at each other and laughing. Simon got a picture of Kieren balancing the salt shaker on a grain, something he had picked up at the bar in his town. The pizza was good, their faces were flushed with laughter, and Kieren didn’t even think about his still exposed scars. 

They left without incident and went along to the photo lab where Simon had been developing pictures. Kieren let his hand drag on the back of Simon’s, who didn’t move his away. Simon unlocked the door and lead them into a dark, gaping room. Kieren stood in the doorway for a moment, counting his breaths. Too much darkness. Simon laughed and stumbled forward. 

“Design flaw, it is,” he called, his voice scattering everywhere. “Having the light switch on the opposite end of the room. A kid could kill himself making this kind of trek.” More laughter. Kieren took a breath and took a step toward the darkness, butretracted instantly. Then with a dull buzz the lights over head turned on, casting harsh white light on three rows of long tables, covered in the similar fashion of Simon’s desk back in his room, negatives and paper cutters and all. Simon smiled encouragingly at him and dropped his camera on the side of a table, apparently his station. He made a ‘come here’ motion which Kieren followed.

“Look, here are some of the first cuts. Tell me what you think,” Simon continued. Before Kieren were all the photos they had taken. The ones from the very first day, With Kieren’s shirt stuck to him and his hair plastered to his forehead but still looking defiant. Angry. It was almost laughable, like the way one laughed off terrible stuff they did in middle school. There were the other photos, less angry, but he was still hiding, he could see it in the careful way he posed. Those were taken in sunlight. Some close ups of his face, his eyes brilliant and he actually looked beautiful. 

Looking over was a shock. There were photos of him bare, scars standing out against the starkness of his skin, the day overcast. Shadows and greys and his ugly scars. His stupid scars that kept him apart from those around him. Could he get any more pathetic?

“These...are...wow.” Kieren was kind of speechless. He hadn’t ever seen a photo that could expose so much. “These are really…”

“Raw? Powerful? Brilliant?”

“Revealing.” Kieren squeaked. He felt weak. His self doubt crawled up his spine like something would tear its way through soft ground, ripping through his heart and filling his brain with static. He would be lynched for this. Almost literally, he was sure. 

“Well, that’s the point, Kieren. They show you, the real you.” Simon pointed out some negatives. “These would have been fine too but I thought about what I wanted to say. What I want to tell them is that you are beautiful. You really are. These...scars,” Simon reached out and took Kieren’s wrist, brushing his thumb over some of the harsher scars, though their stiffness still freaked him out., “They’re you, but they’re not you. They’re part of you, but they are not the whole of you. Understand?” Kieren could only nod dumbly. Is this really who he was? He swallowed hard and looked at the photos. This was harsh. This was glaring. This was too much. 

“Maybe..we don’t have to show the scars to really express that.” he offered meekly, praying that just for once Simon might agree with him. “Maybe we can keep hiding this bit, just for a while, yeah?” 

Simon sighed. “I don’t know if I can really do that, Kieren. Not now. Look at this, it’s going to blow them all back.”

“No, no it’s going to disturb them. Please, we don’t have to show this.”

“We do, I think. It’s too late to go back really."

“I refuse. I won’t let you use them!”

“You don’t have a choice! They’re my photographs!” 

Kieren stepped back from Simon. He had shown him his most vulnerable side and he was taken advantage of. All he meant to Simon was shock value. Say what he liked, he knew Simon really only wanted him to thrill the masses of the university. And Kieren had let himself be drawn into this. Idiot. He was a pathetic little kid hanging off any sweet word thrown at him. He let himself forget about the harshness people brought with them. 

“Fine.” Kieren said coldly. “Fine, you use them. Plaster them anywhere you want. I don’t even care. Know why I don’t care? Because you, Simon-bloody-Monroe, you are just like the rest.”

After that, he ran. He ran out of the building, down the walk, he ran to his hall, till his lungs were burning, till his legs shook and his ribs screamed with stitches. He ran because he hated. He ran because he was full of rage. How could he let himself get talked into this? He ran up the stairs to his dorm, slamming the door and locking it. He was always so gullible. Just like with Rick. He stood in his room, staring at the picture of Rick, set up on his desk in memorial. The black ribbon in the corner, the military get up like a constant taunt every morning he woke to that face.

Without thought he grabbed the picture and slammed it against his door, again and again as glass rained down on his feet, his arms, till his hands were bleeding. He couldn’t feel it, just the heat from tears in his skin. He hammered the frame until his arm gave out. Kieren was hardly aware he had been crying, until he stopped beating down his own door. 

He turned the decimated frame over and stared at the picture. Rick. Rick, beautiful Rick, the first boy he ever kissed, the first boy to sweet talk him, the first boy to lie to him, the idiot who had marched off into war and left Kieren forever, because Kieren had believed in words like “I’ll see you later.” Simon was just like Rick. Selfish, so unbelievably selfish. 

He sat down among the shattered glass and ached. A solid cold ache. Loneliness, he reminded himself, pain. He slid his phone out of his pocket, his bloody hands leaving streaks on the screen. Mum and dad asking when he would be home. Jem asking if everything was alright, how was class. No word from Rick. Never a word from Rick.

I love you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter guys, unless I expand it or add like an epilouge thing, Thank you for all your support. the last chapter will be long I promise. I'll try to wrap up every loose end I can. Thank you all sooooo much.


	6. Just Like All The Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is, in fact the end. Thank you so much for all your support, and for liking my story. Share with others...who know's I could write a sequel. Or a Prequel???
> 
> update: 12 May 15   
> All chapters had been edited for a while and now are all posted in final form. Thank you for continued support

December 13th

The opening day of the Senior Galleries. 

Kieren saw the flyers everywhere as he moved between classes and was thankful no photography of him had made it to the cover. He was safe until peoplewent to go see it.

He held his phone in hand all day and stared, hoping maybe Amy would ask him somewhere or Jem would want to skype anyway to keep himself busy tonight. But no one talked to him. Not even his parents. He watched as classes blew by and over his head and the sun sank lower. He counted seconds and minutes and breaths, counted the amount of times he had re-read the same sentence, he counted the amount of times he re-tied his shoes. 

It was 5:00pm. There was two hours until it opened and Kieren was near hysterics. He was pacing his dorm room, watching his bags he’s been trying to pack for a week like they might bite him. He wasn’t gonna go, he wasn’t gonna go, Simon would be there and they haven’t spoke in almost a month. He couldn’t show his face where he was so blatantly disrespected and exposed. He should just get drunk, and stay home, and watch tv or call Amy and go to a gay bar. Any way to keep himself from going.

He sank onto his bed and looked at the photograph. After bashing it to pieces (his hands were still wrapped from the cuts) he had salvaged the picture and put it up with a tack. Rick smiled cheerily at him from the laminated surface. 

He buried his face in his hands and let out a groan. Why was this so difficult? He had the self control to stay here, he was leaving for Christmas holiday in just a few days. Everyone would forget about him. It’d be fine. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t fine because Simon was still about, getting popular and successful off of Kieren. He was a marketing tool because of his mistakes. 

Maybe Kieren would go, just to piss off Simon. Just to rain on his parade. So what if he was stared at, then he’d have the rooms attention, then he’d be the one exposing Simon. Maybe. 

With this new plan in mind Kieren grabbed some nicer clothes and began to get ready. Skinny jeans, the black v-neck sweater that exposed the tips of the scars on his chest, his dress shoes. He pushed up the sleeves to his elbow, exposing all he dared to. This was for him. 

 

When Kieren got there the doors had just opened and people filed in. The galleries were large, stark white rooms. Seniors each got one full room of the three available. First was a room of large oil paintings that piqued Kieren’s interest. They displayed bright patterns with dark accents, a bit like a cubist style. People smiled at them, pointed out strokes and shadows in each that were especially well done. Kieren took them apart with the practice of an artist, seeing what worked and what didn’t. The crowd he had walked in with moved on and so did he, hiding his face from them.

The second room had three flat screens on the north, west, and east walls with four pairs of headphones per. Video production major then. Though unable to hear Kieren noted they were PSA’s mostly, one about gay rights, the other about capitalism, and the third about violence among black and white communities. Prolific and relevant. Through the archway Kieren caught glimpses of the photo room and his heart began to pound. He prayed that this group would hurry up so he could go to the next room, yet he prayed they stopped right there so they wouldn’t see him. 

Behind them another group came in, happy and laughing and a bit louder than the first. They talked and laughed as soft music turned on. Finally, painstakingly, the first group moved on and Kieren with them into Simon’s room. 

Simon had somehow managed to cram together ten photographs. The main white column in the center sported the most gruesome of the scar pictures. The full chest shot before his anxiety attack, the close up of his bare wrist as he brushed his hair out of his eye, one of his bare shoulders from behind, with the long raking cuts up his back, and then one of Kieren himself, looking down at them all. Even he could see the disgust in his face. Looking at them was like blowing up should feel, like he was falling apart, like there was an actual tearing in his joints. But there was no fall out. No combustion, just a pile of gun powder, compacted in his heart.

On the walls surrounding those were what truly took the breath away. These were the pictures from his room, with the fake white light, Kieren looking open and soft. The ones of Kieren laughing in the pizza shop with his arms exposed. There was one of Kieren looking down at his shoes from one of the first days, fully clothed but endearing all the same. Kieren gaped at them. These couldn’t really be him. They were too ethereal. They were too peaceful. They didn’t match the roar in his ears, they didn’t correlate to the beating in his chest or the tremors in his hands. They were beautiful; this was beautiful. These were photos of someone, a stranger maybe. Someone not hanging between collapse and recovery. In the lights here, it wasn’t the exposure he expected. It wasn’t fame, it was humility. And Kieren felt it. There was hardly any shame. It was...truth. A sort of silent trust. 

Many in the crowd gathered around the column staring. There were grumbles about how could this be allowed. There were gasps. There were little shuddering breaths that made Kieren feel like a holocaust museum. He watched them all looking at the art, waiting for the screams, the disapproval. The second group brushed past him, taking in the photos. He didn’t know how to cope with their silence. 

That was when it started. When one person turned and looked and actually saw him. Saw this scared kid who’d run away from home, who was in pain, flailing for something to hold on to. It was a girl, not much older than Jem, probably nineteen. She crossed the room until they were face to face, Kieren’s trembling lips pulled tight, her eyes wide. And then she had hugged him. Someone looked up at the exchange and came forward, extending an arm. Kieren broke from the girl and took the man's hand. He hugged him too. Then, like a flood had erupted the people began really seeing him. They hugged him, they thanked him, they gave him names of other victims of self-harm, told him it got better. Tears brimmed his eyes and his face was probably all red but it didn’t matter because he was being seen. It felt like he was finally breathing. He didn’t even notice when the artists came in, standing a bit away from the crowd. But Kieren did notice Simon. Simon, in the same ugly jumper that he hated, with the same dark eyes and the same weird hair, and the same confident air. But it wasn’t self confidence. It was confidence in Kieren. 

Surging forward through the crowd, Kieren headed right for him, all his emotion pumping through him. He broke free of the last few people and stopped, like a free fall, in front of Simon. They stood toe to toe, looking at each other.

“Simon.” Kieren began. “Simon, I...I didn’t…” he couldn’t speak, he knew he might cry. 

“I’m sorry.” Simon whispered. And Kieren let go. He hugged Simon, clung to him for dear life, let some tears fall soundlessly on that ugly freaking sweater. Simon hugged him back, felt his heart slam against his ribs, felt his body shaking. They broke apart awkwardly, in the silence of the room. and then the crowd began clapping. It jarred Kieren from his awe and he flinched at first, before realizing it was for him. Oh. Oh.

Simon smiled pleasantly before saying “Well I guess I should uh, go first then,” he wound his fingers with Kieren’s. “This is my photography final. It’s been a long way to be where I am and I thank the school for their continued support.” There was an obligatory round of applause before Simon continued.

“I also thank the school for their generous allowance in letting me put up these pictures. As you can see, they’re mostly of a sensitive topic.” his eyes flickered over to Kieren, squeezing his hand. Whether for his benefit or Kieren’s was unknown. “I called this piece ‘Him’, initially, because I couldn’t think of anything better. But Kieren here showed me something. . .well, better.” Light laughter filled the room. “So I present this to you under a different name. ‘Just like all the rest’.” Kieren’s heart stuttered. Of course Simon would do that, turn the last cruel thing Kieren said into a declaration of self acceptance. Of course. Because he had turned the last cruel thing Kieren had done to himself into a masterpiece.

“I think it’s important to remember that people with mental illness are not just walking definitions, they’re not textbooks or science experiments.” Simon continued, oblivious to his partners revelation. “They’re just normal people. I’ve done my best to show you this, and I really hope you enjoy it. It was all made possible by my beautiful, lovely model here, Kieren Walker. Say a few words for us?” The crowd turned eagerly to Kieren awaiting what could only be some sort of liturgy, going off their reverent silence. 

He swallowed hard before taking a step forward and stuttering out “H-hello. Yes uh..Hi.” He wanted to faint, or stop talking or anything. He looked over at Simon for just a moment, saw the assurance, the confidence in his blue eyes. Simon knew he’d manage. Simon knew he’d get through this, all of this. And maybe it was the photos, or maybe the music, but in that moment, Kieren believed maybe he just might. 

“These..weren’t very easy to make for me, you see.” He let out whatever fell to his tongue. He was listened to. They were enraptured. “My self harm has been a kind of hidden secret. A world we don’t discuss at family functions or hanging out with some mates.” several heads nodded. “These photographs are really...just stunning and very open. More so than I ever could be alone. More so than I could ever be.” He took a heavy breath. But this wasn’t draining. No, it was a relief. It was filling him up. “I don’t know if you understand, but you see, more clearly, inside the eyes of one person struggling with mental illness. I’ve spent years hiding my skin, covering up and it took a photo assignment done by a complete stranger to show me who I was.” He ignored the hitch in his voice. He ignored it all. He didn’t mind. 

“What we’re trying to say here is really….don’t hide. It’s no fun being on your own.” Kieren stepped back into Simons waiting hand and the group clapped again. The other presenters read off their thank you’s and their premises, but Kieren didn’t pay attention. All he could think about was not hiding anymore. about being seen and being cared for and being loved. All he could think about was holding Simon Monroe’s hand in front of 50 strangers who all saw his scars but more importantly, all saw him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again thanks so much. I just thought i'd include some stuff here
> 
> If someone is dealing with self harm:  
> https://safehelpline.org/effects-of-sexual-assault/self-harm-injury  
> If someone is thinking of suicide:  
> http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/  
> some tumblr masterposts:  
> durban-flaws.tumblr.com/tagged/masterpost (might have to scroll for a bit)  
> If you needed a song to read this too, cause I wrote it to this:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=844wpvZxTxk  
> these are mostly us links. sorry


	7. Don't get excited

Hi guys   
So I mentioned really vaguely that there'd be an epilogue and now there is. It's convinetly part two in this collection. I hope you all appreciate it. Thank you so much. 

Don't forget to tell me what you think. If you hate it tell me why. If you loved it tell me why. If you liked parts and not others tell me why. I'm here to cater to you guys and to help myself with my writing. 

Love you   
Jacob


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